All I Wanted
by ThisStrawberryIsYours
Summary: Pony's hearing goes a little differently. What is Darry going to do? *AU* OC-Sadie


hello everyone! This is my second attempt at writing an ''Outsiders'' fic. I haven't finished my last story, I know, but I have major writers block for it. Anyways...please ignore all grammar mistakes ahead of time, and try to look over them :p

_A/N: This will be a major AU, starting after Johnny and Dally's funeral and while Pony is supposedly in the hospital. I have introduced a new character, who I hope ya'll will like, named Sadie. This fic is in her POV. Forgive me if this starts out slow, but like I said, I have a new character to introduce and a story to lay out._

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**"My Boys"**

I stood by the window, watching as the world swirled together in a mess of colors. I wondered if that was due to the rain that rippled across the surface of the dirty glass, or from my vision blurred by tears I thought I finished shedding hours ago. I've cried more within the last week then I have my entire life; I thought I was all cried out. I guess I was wrong. The clock on the mantle told me it was passed 9 o' clock. It was late. Later than when I promised the boys I would meet back up with them at the hospital.

I stepped away from the window and turned the corner to go into Soda's room. He doesn't sleep here anymore. He's always sleeping with Pony, trying to protect his little brother from whatever it is that haunts his dreams. That's more than fine on my account. I've been staying at the Curtis house since Dally died. There isn't really a need to go back to Buck's, not when I have to be alone. I don't want to ever go back there. I told myself I would never go back there, and I haven't. Two-Bit did a good thing by me, going there and getting what little bit of possessions I owned. Those bits of possessions are now strewn all over Soda's bed and floor in heaps of lace and silk and other fabrics, adding an unusual flair of femininity to the dominantly male room.

I picked up a random shirt from a pile near the closet and put it on with a pair of old, worn jeans. When I happened to look down, I realized it wasn't my shirt at all. It was plaid, red and gold, and hung down to my knees. It was too big to be Sodapop's. It was probably Darry's. How it ended up in Soda's room, mixed in with my clothes, is hard to tell. But that's how things are here. Here in this place, in this town. Lost things always seem to make their way to Tulsa. I was nine-going-on- ten when Social Services brought me here to live with my grandma.

The bed squeaked in protest as I sat on the edge. I ran a hand through my hair, effectively creating a catastrophe of brown curls. Brown curls that are more like tats, now. In raging fits of emotion, I tend to mess with my hair. I guess I try to straiten out my curls like I try to straiten out my life, but they're always being rebellious, my curls I mean. They always spring right back to where they were before. Dally always liked my hair; he said it was my trademark and stubborn just like I was. I remembered when we were still kids, the last day I would see any type of innocence in my cousin's ice blue eyes. It was the week before I was moved to Oklahoma.

He was a year younger than me, eight at the time. Dal was always staying at my house. Well, I don't think you can really call it a house, more like a one bedroom apartment. But it was home and we were happy. Mom was always happy after dad left. He made her life and my life hell. I was glad he split. Anyway, me and Dally were laying in my mamma's bed, giggling and whispering about how we were going to spoke her when she walked through the bedroom door. We thought we were so sneaky, pretending to be asleep while she finished doing the dishes. The door slammed, meaning momma was taking the garbage out back to be hauled off the next morning, and I knew she would be back and ready to come to bed soon. We waited, shuffling and tickling each other until we had to stop cause if we didn't settle down we would've blown our cover and ruined our plan. We waited. The sound of gunfire pierced through my conscience. That sound disturbed the night, waking my neighbors and causing the city mutts to howl in discontent. My stomach hollowed and I thought I was going to be sick. Something happened to my momma, I just knew. I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me, Dallas trailing behind. I'll never forget what I saw that night-the image of my mother splayed idle on the wet cement, discarded in a trash filled alley as if her life was meaningless, her eyes emotionless as they reflected back at nothing from a shallow puddle of water and waste...

So many terrible memories were created that night. I'll carry them with me forever. But the one thing that strikes me most when I think about the night that changed my life forever, is something from Dally. His eyes. They were bright and eager. I don't think there was ever hope in those icy depths. No, his childhood was too brutal for that. But they were alive, not those dead, listless lenses he saw from before he let go of humanity. That's what struck me most when I saw him again. His eyes are the reason I knew he had morphed into someone who wasn't the Dallas Winston I used to know, my beloved cousin. I was his link to Tulsa. I was the reason he choose this place.

My head was between my knees and I was nearing hyperventilation. I calmed down enough to lift my head and wipe at my face. Those stupid tears just wont stop. I had a headache, throbbing from temple to temple. I knew I had to stop this blubbering soon, I just had to. My knees were wobbly when I stood and I had to wait a few seconds before I could walk efficiently, much less drive. Steve's keys were still in the engine. It was a stupid thing for me to leave car keys in the car they belonged to, especially in a Greaser's neighborhood. I guess I just forgot. Steve let me borrow his car after Dally and Johnny's funeral, he was with Two-Bit and said it wouldn't be a problem if I used his car to go back to the Curtis' and change. That was at 1 in the afternoon, it was now 10. Night had long ago fallen, bringing out the moon and the stars. The air was crisp and clear, clean in my lungs. Too clean, I thought. After sobbing, breathing air like this stings.

Steve and Soda were the first of the gang I met. I had been here a little over a month and I decided to walk down the tracks near Sutton. They were on their knees, trying to tie a firecracker to a cat's tail. Soda was the first I punched. Steve tried to run away, but I just threw a rock at him. ''How dare you hurt a poor kitty like that!'' I had yelled. They looked terrified. I was older then them by a couple of years, and so I was bigger at the time. We ended up going to school together, and I met Two-Bit, who was in my class, and Darry and Johnnycake and Pony. We all ended up being good friends, adopted family members, even. They've been ''my boys'' ever sense. I would have laughed now thinking about it if the circumstances were different, if Dally were here to tell me how much of a sissy I was being and Johnny were here to blush when I looked at him. Johnny was always shy around girls. He was cute, would've been really handsome if he had the chance to become a man.

My boys have always been there for me...

When I was twelve my grandma, Lynn Winston, died. I was forced into an All Girls Home. By the time I was fourteen, they were trying put me into the Foster program, sending me across the state. I refused. Every one of my blood relatives were dead, they weren't going to take away my Greaser family. My Boys were all I had. I was their sister and they needed me...I needed them. Besides, no one wanted a Greaser in their home, affecting their lives and tarnishing their living space. Apparently, everyone else agreed, because in Tulsa I stayed, not leaving the town or the Girls Home once. I never forgot Dal. I wrote to him every week and he responded whenever he could- once, maybe twice a month. The month I was going to turn seventeen, I hadn't heard from Dallas in over three months. "Oh, no...'', I thought, ''He's gottin' himself killed.'' How wrong I was. A couple of days after my birthday, a fifteen year old Dallas Winston shows up in my school parking lot. I was never so happy to see someone in my life. But something was different about him. Like I said, those eyes said it all. I asked him how he made it here from New York, and I wish I hadn't. He told me he was sick of the city and his old man's BS, said he stole his dad's car then ditched it in Kentucky and hitched the rest of the way. When he said he was in Tulsa to stay...

There were tears in my eyes again. I have to stop thinking about Dal, at least while I'm driving. The rain had let up by the time I pulled into the hospital. I sat up a little straighter, stretching enough to see my face in the rear view mirror. What I saw made me even more miserable. My curly hair was, as predicted, a tangled fix. The blue-green of my eyes were nearly hidden by red, puffy skin from either crying or trying to wipe tears away; the rest of my face was so pale I was all but transparent. So, I sat back for a few minutes, letting myself unwind and my face return to normal size and color. After all, the guys were overprotective and I the last thing I needed was them crowding around me, asking me questions and attempting to make me feel better. The thought of them gathered so close made my stomach turn a little, and I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I don't think my nerves could handle that right now. I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. I really wanted to see how Ponyboy was doing, and I didn't want to have to punch someone to do it, which is exactly what will end up happening if I don't just chill out.

I've always had to work to play it cool. My emotions are always going haywire and I can have a short fuse, especially if I hadn't had enough time to myself. It's a disadvantage, I guess. Being a Greaser sort of requires you to play it cool, kind of like a prerequisite for survival. It was thought among us that if you felt too much, you would hurt too much, then you would care too much...and Greasers couldn't afford to care. We weren't born with the privilege. My breathing was steady, now, and the cool leather in Steve's car was the only thing making sense. I was ready to get out.

I didn't open my eyes, but let my hand feel against the careworn material of the door. The handle was cold and sleek in my grip, sending small rhythms of shock across my palm. I didn't mind it, though, and proceeded to get out of the car, checking to make sure I didn't leave the keys this time. I did. I reached over to extract them from the engine, then I closed the door and walked towards the hospital entrance.

The building was large, larger than it had been a few days ago. Maybe that was because a few days ago, Dally and Johnny were the ones laying in the hospital. Dally was alive and thriving; he would've been okay, the doctor said, he was perfectly fine. But he wasn't. He was broken and crumbling, flickering like the street light that highlighted his dead body. Johnny, was, well...Johnny wasn't dead. Not yet. He was the opposite of Dally, in every respect. Before Ponyboy got sick, before the rumble even, he told me about "Gone With the Wind", about the southern gentleman and gallant heros and Johnny's bewildered excitement over them. I smiled a sort of bitter smile. Johnny wasn't like Dally; Johnny wasn't ready to die, and he didn't want to die. He was young, too young, and he had saw too little. What little he did see was gnawed at by something he had no control over. He wanted to see something good in this world- saving those kids, I think, gave him that one golden glimpse. Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade died as heros, and I'll believe that til the day I die.

The hospital doors were heavy and made of glass. I pushed through them, hearing a small swooshing noise as the doors closed behind me. I turned my head, and my reflection stared dully back at me. The glass was smudged and so I was just some blurry silhouette of an eighteen year-old girl. Red and gold touched my knees, and I had to admit, it was quite a funny sight to picture. Darry's shirt engulfed me- I looked like a little girl trying to wear her father's clothes. This was ironic, I thought. The last thing I want to see is how crummy I look, but everywhere I go I'm bombarded with my image. My reflection is following me, and I can't shake it.

My footsteps were light as I continued to walk down the long hospital hall, making thudding sounds that echoed off the white walls. Everything was white here, so lifeless and pristine. I hated hospitals, I thought as I tucked my hands in the long shirt sleeves, trying to get warm. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that it wasn't cold. My shoulders slouched as I continued walking, burying my upper body farther in old fabric. I was hiding, or trying to at least. I couldn't help it. I'm not a coward, but instinct took over. Like I said, I hate hospitals- bad things happen in hospitals, and they are too clean, sanitized, and the smells burned more than just my nose- and the feel of Darry's large shirt covering me was comforting. It was the closest thing I had to my actual boys being here. I guess having them with me right now wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

I made it to a familiar corner and took a right. Three doors down and finally I arrived at my destination. My heart broke a little more. Ponyboy was still out like a light, the recent passed weeks have really done him in. Pony was always my favorite kid, and the brother I always thought I would have in another life. It amazed me, sometimes, how similar we were. We both loved books and writing, staring off into the day at nothing in particular. One thing I wish was different between us, for his sake, is that we also share a common scatterbrained quality; we just don't pay attention to anything. At least he's not clumsy the way I am, he would be in a world of hurt- and I mean that literally. There were days when I would take him for a walk. He would be in one of those moods, upset because of something that had happened or angry because Darry didn't seem to care. I would hold him for awhile and read to him. We would talk and cry together. And then we would be quiet. The sun would sink slowly into the earth, absorbed greedily by the land normally below it. The world would be still in those moments, and life would make sense again. I wish more than anything that I could take him away, wisp him up to meet the dying sunlight. But he wouldn't wake up. He was asleep, and so, for now, the sun will just have to set on all our problems.

I felt a smile want to rise, but couldn't. Sodapop was curled on his side asleep, his arm draped over Pony the way it always is. I love all of my boys equally, but it's different with each of them. I was a mother figure to Pony and Johnny, a sister to Two-Bit and Steve, and a voice of reason and cousin to Dal. With Soda, I never felt the need to worry like I do with the others, just be around him. He's over a year younger then me, but I could go with him anywhere, do anything, or say anything and it would be alright with Soda. He was one of the only people I trusted completely. We had all the firsts together- first time to hold hands with a boy or girl, first slow dance, first kiss- but they were never romantic, just something to get over with. The only first we haven't had together is ''the first''. I'm saving that for someone I love and trust enough to marry. I love Soda, but I have never been in love with him. I'm not gonna lie, I have tried to fall in love with Sodapop. I thought that it was suppose to be that way, that it was impossible to be that close to somebody of the opposite gender and not be in love with them. The fact that he's gorgeous helped spurn this thought. Soda will always have a special place in my heart, but I just couldn't love him that way.

I have two best friends in our little gang, Soda was one of them. The other was sitting beside the bed, trying to get comfortable in one of those impossibly uncomfortable hospital chairs, which was too small for his six-feet-two frame to begin with. Darry had his head propped up by his right hand, massaging away an invisible attack along his forehead. He hadn't noticed I was standing in the doorway, so I took this time to just look. Here in this room is a family, a small family and broken. It's like everyone is broken today. I thought about the past year and everything that had happened to the Curtis', and more specifically, Darry. I watched as life tripped Darry, knocking him off his feet and making him breathless as he hit the ground. He is too wonderful to have circumstances turn out the way they did. He had a scholarship, a goal, and a brain to get him through college; a heart that would have got him anywhere. He had a life ahead of him and away from this town. All of that changed... Mr. and Mrs. Curtis died; two of the most joyous and wonderful people to grace the face of the earth, gone. Darry stood up and took responsibility for his brothers; he did everything he could to keep his family together. A couple of weeks and two jobs later, the twenty-year-old Darrel Curtis I knew changed into a forty-year-old man. I remember when we would sit on his porch, just him and me, and we would talk about our lives. He would look at me and smile, talking about how excited he was. He was so handsome, so full of life. I cherish those moments. I was one of the only people he would talk to about that kind of personal stuff, and I still am, but its different. We still talk about our lives, but I guess that's it...our lives are different now.

My gaze became focused again as I brought myself out of wondering. Darry still didn't notice I was here. I shook my head at his appearance. He was still devilishly handsome, but dark rings circled his eyes, mocking his efforts to fight a little longer, and his hair was disheveled from nights in a hospital. Darry winced as he removed his hand from his forehead and placed it on his shoulder, pressing hard into his skin as his fingers moved. I frowned. He's been hauling to bundles of roofin' at a time again, probably pulled a muscle. I rolled my eyes. I was gonna skin him. He works too hard, anyways, and I bet he hasn't slept.

''When is the last time you slept? You look ruff.''

Darry opened his eyes, only very slowly. I almost winced. He looks like he's been ran through the mill a few times. ''You don't look any better, Sadie.''

I smiled a bitter smile. ''I know that. Did you pull another muscle?''

He stopped rubbing his back, suddenly, like he didn't realize he'd been doing it. Then he sighed. ''Yea. I've just been so stretched lately.''

I nodded slowly. ''That's why you're goin' home tonight. I'll rub your back when we get there.'' I always rub Darry's back when he pulls a muscle. Pony doesn't want to do it and Soda always puts him to sleep. That leaves me.

''I aint leavin'.''

''Sure you are. Steve and Two-Bit are here somewhere, and Soda will still be here. You need your sleep, Dar. You ain't no good to anybody wore down the way you are. Ponyboy has only been in the hospital a couple of days and the doctor said it'll be a few more days before he even wakes up. You won't be able to take care of him in the shape that your in, and you still have to work tomorrow.''

He shook his head, weariness seemed to seep out of him from the small movement. I wasn't going to argue with him anymore, not with Pony and Soda asleep in the same room. Wouldn't do much good to argue with him anyhow, he's as stubborn as a mule. Thing is, I'm even more stubborn than he is and we both know it. He's going home tonight,whether he likes it or not. He may be big and muscly, but unlike everyone else, I wasn't afraid of him. I didn't care to let him know it, either.

And I don't want to be alone tonight. He should know that, I thought. Not tonight.

"Come on then.'' I said. ''I'm goin' to get some coffee. I need it and by the looks of ya'...well, you could use a cup, too.'' He ran a shaky hand over his face, but he got up to meet me in the doorway.

The cold front I worked into before leaving Steve's car starts to thaw away as we make our small trip to the hospital's cafeteria. I fight the emotional battle raging just under the surface, where no one can see. I thought back to the paleness of my face, how transparent I looked, and wondered if people could see what's going on inside me after all. We entered the cafeteria. Darry told me to grab us a table and he'd get the coffee. I didn't argue. The cool metal of the chair seeped through the shirt I was wearing, making me shudder. I stared a hole through the table, just waiting.

Darry placed a cup full of steaming coffee in front of me, breaking my concentration. ''Are you cold?"

I shook my head 'no', but I couldn't stop shaking. He took off his jacket and handed it to me. "You need to stop bein' so stubborn.''

I glared at him. ''Look who's talking.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''You need to start letting people help you every now and then.''

He made an indignant 'hmph' sound. '' I don't want people doing my job, Sadie. I have to do some things on my own.''

I understood him then, just like I've always understood him. Darry seems to think that if he has any help that it will somehow make him weaker, make him less then capable of taking care of his brothers- being an adult. I'm eighteen, I thought. Darry isn't an adult to me. Sadness tugged at my heart. "Oh, Darry'', I wanted to say, "everyone knows your capable of anything''.

I didn't say that though, instead I said, "That's not what I meant, Superman. You are only one person. People love you, your family- the Greasers- we love you. And we love Soda and Pony. We just want to help when we can."

He grinned a half-hearted grin. ''You're wearin' my shirt. I was looking for it earlier.''

I shrugged. ''It was in my pile.'' My voice was shaking and I wanted to kick myself. I've made it this far without crying in front of anyone and I wasn't gonna start now. Funny how emotions tend to sneak up on you when you least expect it, or want them to.

"How are you, Sadie? Don't tell me you're okay, either, cause that's a lie."

I couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped from the corner of my eye, nor could I stop my raw response. I told you I could tell Darry anything. ''Oh...you know.'' His plaintive smile made me realize that he did, in fact, know- he himself having lost enough people to feel the sting of loss when it's near. He loved Dallas and Johnny, too. He twisted his cup in his hands. Darry only fiddles when something is really upsetting him. "What is it?''

I watched as he took his time, setting his cup down before answering. ''I talked to a guy from Social Services. Pony has a court hearing, testifying and all that.''

Darry paused. I knew what he was thinking, what he would say next- his greatest fear. I waited for him to continue. He didn't disappoint. ''They could separate us, Sadie.''

I don't say anything for a minute or two, then I start. ''I'm not gonna smile and say things are gonna be alright, Dar, cause I honestly don't know that. What I do know is your a great big brother, a wonderful provider. You've done all you could and more. The court will see that.''

He attempts a smile. ''I wouldn't be so sure that's what they'll see.''

He's right. I thought about the three lives that were taken away from this town and all the mental anguish caused by Ponyboy and Johnnycake running away, and about all the rumors and wars that has spread from here to everywhere...How could anyone see passed all that mess? I didn't have enough time to think about the answer, however. Two-Bit and Steve came barging through the doors, bringing noise and a winning distraction.

Gotta love their timing.

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Okay, there is the first part.

_A/N: Again, ignore grammar, please._

_A/N2: I don't know what goes on inside the Foster system or courtroom decision making, especially in the early 60's. I'm just writing an AU story, so my info may not be entirely accurate. But all that mumbo jumbo isn't the point of the story anyway, so it really doesn't matter, savvy?_

_:D_

**PLEASE REVIEW!!! should I continue or drop this?**


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